Memorabilia
by Minerva Solo
Summary: uncanny 'verse. Jean Paul stumbles across Bobby going through a box of old things, and Bobby starts dicussing an athlete he hero-worshipped as a kid.


**Memorabilia**

_A/N: This just randomly started in my head, more of a flashback than anything else.  I've no idea what the age gap between Jean Paul and Bobby is (though I'm almost Jean Paul is the elder) and I can't remember where Bobby grew up. Any glaring errors there, please, point them out. _

_Disclaimers: Bobby and Jean Paul belong to Marvel. Apologies for any canon errors._

_Warnings:  fluff, brief angst, homosexuality_

Jean Paul stumbled across Bobby kneeling over a cardboard box in the middle of the television room. It was maybe midday, and the school was empty. There was some kind of school trip on, and it surprised Jean Paul that Bobby hadn't gotten himself involved. Still, a chance to have him to himself was not one to be argued with.

"Hi," Bobby said distractedly.

"What's that?" Jean Paul figured he should at least attempt polite conversation, even if most attempts turned into a sarcasm slinging match. And if he sat on the sofa, just so, he received a very good view of Bobby Drake's arse, waving pertly in the air as he bent over.

"Oh, just stuff." Bobby sighed and sat back on his heels. Unseen by him, Jean Paul pouted playfully. "Parents sent it. They moved a while back, but I guess they figured they might as well get rid of some of my old stuff." He snorted. "And god, this stuff is _old_."

"Ah," Jean Paul offered. "Yes."

Bobby laughed quietly. "I mean, pre-mutation old. A bracelet from a girl I liked when I was eleven. Doesn't even fit on my wrist any more." He held it up, dangling from two fingers.

Jean Paul smiled. "Nice though. Are you keeping it all?"

"I dunno." Bobby glanced over his shoulder at the older man as he put it back in the box. "There's some stuff in here I could probably sell for quite a lot. Some you might be interested in, actually." He turned back to the box and began rooting through it again.

Jean Paul raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I went through this phase where I was utterly obsessed with winter sports," bobby explained. "It's almost ironic when you think about what I can do now. Anyway, back then I hadn't even seen snow, not properly, and the ice rink was a place I'd take girls who'd think my inability to stand up was cute. The Winter Olympics looked so glamorous."

Jean Paul frowned. "Which year?" he asked.

Bobby shrugged. "Just ages ago. I've got all this memorabilia. There was this one skier I got absolutely obsessed with. I was young then, too young to, you know, get real crushes, but-" He broke off. Jean Paul was about to prompt him when Bobby laughed suddenly. "God, it seems so silly. I _worshipped_ this guy." He glanced over his shoulder again and Jean Paul was surprised to see he was blushing. Bobby turned back to the box hastily. "What I was going to say," He explained, "was that if I'd been a bit older it would have counted as, well, a crush. I shouldn't be embarrassed to say that to you, should I?"

"Non," Jean Paul stammered. "No."

"I used to fantasise all the time," Bobby went on, back to digging through the box, "that he, like, came to where I lived and we met, one day. And he'd be able to tell that I'd be an amazing skier, just from looking at me, and he'd take me to Canada or Austria or the Himalayas and teach me to ski and I'd win loads of medals. It was all very innocent. I just wanted this guy to be my best friend. I used to talk to his poster, sometimes." He laughed self-consciously, and Jean Paul's stomach did flips.

"Do you know who it was?" Jean Paul asked tentatively. "Or which team?"

"Nah," Bobby sighed. "I didn't really care about stuff like that. He was just young, you know, and rich and famous and foreign. I think it terrified my parents, you know. They thought there son was going to grow up gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added hastily, "but considering how they dealt with the fact I'm a mutant I think that would just have sent them over the edge." He paused, lost in thought. "You know, I think it still worries them. All that obsession with spandex-clad athletes, then I go on to become a spandex-clad superhero, surrounded by similar."

"It's a stereotype," Jean Paul managed. Oh god, this was torture. Bobby Drake, talking about having a crush on a skier, a skier Jean Paul might even have known, and laughing at the idea he might be gay.

"Hey, here's the poster!" Bobby crowed. He unfurled it up and held it out in front of him, raised slightly so Jean Paul could see it as well. "Anyone you kno..."

It was very obviously Jean Paul.

The ex-skier forced a laugh. "Wow, that was taken a hell of a long time ago. Wish I looked like that now."

Bobby dropped the poster like it was on fire and starting shoving stuff back into the box. At times like this Jean Paul felt inclined to believe the Catholics were right, God hated gay men. He also had one hell of a sense of humour, showing his disapproval through little dramas like this.

Bobby lurched to his feet, box, clenched in his arms, and began to run out of the room. Jean Paul almost laughed as he overtook the boy. Did he think he could run away from the fastest thing in Canada?

He grabbed Bobby's shoulder. The unfocused eyes snapped onto his frame. "Bobby, it's cool," Jean Paul said quietly. "It's okay. Calm down." Each word killed him, but it was better than knowing Bobby would never look him in the eye again. "Bobby, please."

"I, I... I..." Bobby shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. "Oh god," he moaned. "Oh god."

"Bobby, it is okay," Jean Paul said again. "I... I won't tell any one what you said. If you want to pretend it never happened..."

Bobby took a deep breath and let it out again, opening his eyes. "You're missing the point," he said coolly. "I wouldn't care if everyone else knew, as long as you didn't. You don't know what I'd give to take that back, in there. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. It was stupid stuff to say," he kicked at the wall next to him angrily.

Jean Paul let go of his shoulder, trying not to look as hurt as he felt. "You didn't say anything you need to be embarrassed about," he said softly. "I was flattered. Back then I never even thought about fans. If we'd met you'd probably have hated me instantly. I was pretty self-centred. Everything revolved around winning medals. If you weren't handing me one, you weren't worth the time of day."

It wasn't entirely true, but it was believable. Right now, that mattered. Bobby didn't need to know quite how much it had meant to hear him say those things. He didn't need to know that even back then, he'd have been just as thrilled. Jean Paul offered a small smile, hopefully.

Bobby sighed. "I guess so," he mumbled. "I mean, it was ages ago. Decades, practically."

"Yes."

They stood awkwardly in the corridor. Bobby was staring into the cardboard box like it contained the secrets of the universe. Jean Paul wondered with a crooked smile what Bobby looked like back then. He doubted the young man would be pleased if he asked for a picture right now.

"Jean Paul?" Bobby said eventually, lifting his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out like that."

Jean Paul shook his head. "It's okay," he smiled.

"You're saying that a lot," Bobby observed, the edges of his lips twisting upwards, just barely.

Jean Paul considered. "Oui." He was a bit shell shocked by this whole revelation, truth be told.

Bobby chuckled. "That's more like you."

Jean Paul stepped back, to allow Bobby wherever he'd been going. Bobby looked blank for a moment. He didn't move.

"Jean Paul?" he said tentatively.

"Oui?"

"Would you... wouldyouteachmetoski?"

It took a moment for Jean Paul to process the babble. It wasn't that it was too fast - he was used to a faster world in general – it was because it was something he hadn't expected to hear and had wanted to so badly.

Jean Paul beamed. "Of course! I would love to." He didn't think he'd ever been so sincere about something so trivial.

Bobby nodded to himself. "Cool. Cool," he smiled. "We'll have to organise that at some point."

"Yes," Jean Paul tried to keep from grinning like an idiot, but he wasn't sure he was succeeding.

"Well, thanks," Bobby shot a smile at him. "I guess I'll go sort through the rest of this stuff, before I find someone else to embarrass myself in front of."

Jean Paul nodded. "I will see you later."

"Yeah," Bobby said, already halfway down the corridor. "Later, JP."

Glancing along the corridor to make certain no one was watching, Jean Paul did a triumphant little dance.

Fin

_A/N: I wanted so badly to end that at the revelation about the poster, but that would have been just too evil. And the image of Jean Paul doing 'a triumphant little dance' just gets me, because I can see him punching the air and everything, maybe floating a bit. No, I won't be continuing this (unless inspiration bites _real_ hard), since I'm half way through one x-men fic and struggling with that because I've got a head full of inspiration for another. Winter posts loving Bobby just appeared of his own accord half way through a difficult scene, and I couldn't leave Jean Paul out, never._

_Imagine kid Bobby looking at you with the puppy dog eyes I'm sure he must have had, and R&R, please? _


End file.
